


Dating an Alien is Not for Everyone

by perfchan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Human Lance (Voltron), Keith is a leg man, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), Xenobio, all fun no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfchan/pseuds/perfchan
Summary: Lance is but a humble tour guide for extraterrestrial tourists. Seems like a strange way to meet a guy, but hey, Lance isn’t complaining.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 301





	Dating an Alien is Not for Everyone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chibibi_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibibi_chan/gifts).



> this fic is a gift for Bibi for winning my 600 follower giveaway on twitter! Bibi requested tour guide Lance, half galran bf Keith, with all of Lance's ridiculousness (and legs). I was happy to oblige! I hope you enjoy!

***

“And if you look to your left,” Lance balances expertly on the platform at the front of the tour bus, swaying in time as the vehicle swings dramatically on the well worn country road, “you’ll see a field of one of Earth’s most sacred creatures.” 

Every alien in the bus swivels their head (or heads, depending on the species) towards the left. In perfect unison. There’s a few shutters of off-world cameras capturing the scenery. Lance gives them a moment, before he continues, 

“ _ Bos Taurus _ is their science-y name,” Lance drawls into his microphone. “But you guys didn’t come here for science! Those stunning critters are cows! Moooooo-ve over dogs, cats, lions, tigers, and bears. Oh my. You can’t beat these beautiful, bountiful bovine! Most well known for their unparalleled contribution to human culture: Milkshakes! Also,” Lance lowers his voice, for dramatic effect, “Cheeseburgers. But we shouldn’t mention that in present company.” Lance pauses for the few titters of laughter from the aliens who actually know what a cheeseburger is. He waggles his brows significantly for those who don’t. The rolling green pasture stretches out luxuriously beyond the windows, and the tour bus rattles onward.

“But seriously. If you want the name of a good burger joint not too far out of your way,” Lance tells them, teetering forward on his tiny stage, now conspiratorial, “Just hit me up after the tour and I’ll give you a nice recommendation from a local.” (The agency that employs Lance has a deal set up with a restaurant that has an old timey diner theme, complete with a soda fountain and everything. It’s hella tacky, but yeesh, if the tourists don’t eat that shit up.) Lance winks at an older, most likely female alien. “Ladies first in line, please.” She blushes all the way up to her eyestalks. 

The hoverbus is scooting along, soon to be out of the countryside portion of the route, and winding back into the city from which they came. Light on his feet, Lance leaps from the platform at the front of the bus, sashaying down the aisle. 

“Most guides won’t tell you this,” Lance says, pinky outstretched as he holds the microphone delicately in his hand, tilts his head back and grins at the extraterrestrials in the seat to his left. “But, I’m not most guides.” A couple from The Aades, it looks like, based on their bright crimson skin. “There’s another reason I like cows.” 

Lance plops down in a vacant seat next to a child. He’s noticed that the kid has been quiet the whole ride. Probably tired from being dragged around a foreign planet all day. Maybe even scared by all the strange sights and sounds. Lance is gentle in the way that he lowers his voice, like he’s talking just to the kid and not to the crowd. “Did you know that cows can tell the weather?” 

The kid shakes his head. 

Lance continues his spiel. “They can. It’s true. Look at a field of cows, next time rain is in the forecast. They’ll all be lying down. They know. They’re never wrong, either. It’s real life magic.” 

Before getting up to continue, Lance gives the kid a smile. The little guy smiles back, shy, but maybe happier. Good. Lance offers him a fist bump and is thrilled when the kid responds. (Terran media is popular and fist bumps especially are spreading throughout the galaxy). 

Lance springs to his feet. 

“Of course, here on Earth in the year 3021, we haven’t had real weather in, oh…” Lance tilts his head, as if he’s thinking. As if he couldn't recite these lines in his sleep, “Oh...about a thousand years, give or take. That’s right! It’s all controlled via the climatodome! By a show of hands, how many of you arrived on the surface via the Spectral Elevator?” 

About half of the aliens raise their hands. Or their closest approximation, for those that have other appendages in lieu of hands. Lance nods, stepping back onto the platform at the front of the tour bus. “If that’s how you arrived, you saw the climato-hub above the northern hemisphere. The climatodome is a marvel of human engineering. You see, in the late 2030s…” 

The tour continues, Lance proceeding with his own personal brand of educating, entertaining, and showboating. He’s well liked. The virtual tip jar at the front of the bus is a testament to that. 

At precisely the appointed time, the tour bus rolls back into town just as Lance finishes the last of his monologue. He’s got this routine down to a science. On the flip side, it’s hard to be late when the driver is automated and the presentation is scripted. 

“Bye, everybody! As always, thanks for joining us on Earth Tours Intergalactic!” Lance waves, as the hoverbus docks back at the tour station and the aliens file off. “Buh-bye! Don’t forget, when you leave me that five-star review, the name’s Lance! Bye~!” Lance blows a kiss to a group of older ladies and they giggle in the way that old ladies sometimes do, except for these girls are from Gazeran, so they are probably at least 700 years old, and also don’t have mouths. 

“Laying it on a little thick, huh, Lance?” One of the other tour guides, named Hunk, joins him at the station. The buses will be cleaned up and ready to go for another run bright and early tomorrow morning. “Not that I’m surprised.” 

“They can’t get enough of the Lancenator,” Lance says in reply, shooting the last of his group a couple of finger guns and a winning smile. The sweet  _ clink-clink-clink _ of his tip jar tinkles in the background. _ Oh yeeeah.  _ Cash money, baby. 

“Funny. Because just one second of the ‘Lancenator’ and I’ve had  _ plenty. _ ” Pidge says, dry, joining her fellow tour guides. 

“Oh yeah? Well—” 

Overhead, there’s a sonic boom— a deafening crash of sound, accompanied by a kickback of light behind a sleek, black jet. The plane circles overhead, before it commits to a sharp dive, careening downward towards the trio of tour guides. 

It seems like it might be coming in too fast— destined to crash into the array of hoverbuses in a fiery end— but no. The jet stops on a dime, just a few strides away. The force of the landing sends out shocks of wind strong enough to nearly knock Lance off his feet. And blow poor Pidge-y away. 

“I’d love to chat more, shortstack,” Lance gives Pidge a solid pat on the back, making sure she’s still upright. Satisfied that she’s stable (well, physically anyways), he runs his hands through his hair to fix it where the wind has blown it out of style. “But, as you both know,” Lance smirks, “That’s my ride.” 

The locking mechanism on the door of the jet unlatches with a clunk, separating the sleek black exterior as the door rises open. 

“Smell ya later!” Lance hollers at his friends, walking backwards as he shouts. He nearly trips over the entrance ramp, but manages to right himself before he eats it completely. Hell yeah. 

It’s dark inside the ship. Lance expects that. Galran eyes are sensitive to light. (Half-Galran eyes are too.) 

“Duuuude,” Lance calls, trotting towards the cockpit. “Do you know how to make an entrance, or what?” 

Keith grins, lifting his flying visor so that Lance can plant a kiss over his mouth. “Thought you’d like that.” 

Lance would linger, even with this slightly awkward positioning— half bent over the pilot’s seat, his boyfriend’s face tilted up to meet his— but there’s the sound of sirens interrupting the moment. (They’re sticklers about parking around here, and Keith  _ technically _ entered the premises via a no-fly zone. Whoops.) 

Lance smiles into the kiss. He feels Keith’s lips pull to do the same. “That’s our cue to leave, huh?” 

“Yeppp,” Lance pops the ‘p,’ breaking the kiss, though not before Keith manages to swipe his tongue over Lance’s bottom lip, in such a way that only promises more. Lance settles into the co-pilot’s seat next to Keith. He buckles up. “Ready to head home, babe?” 

Keith’s only response is a smooth pull of the throttle. The jet takes off like a shot. 

*

Not that dating an alien is all flashy entrances and snappy dialogue! Don’t get it twisted. Lance will be the first to admit— it’s a lot of weird shit too. Dietary restrictions (no milkshakes for Keith, what a colossal shame), courting rituals (yes, Lance does now have an engraved knife, thanks), teaching Keith Earth’s customs (okay so the yellow light means  _ slow down _ , not speed up). There has been a definite learning curve there, no joke. 

Luckily, Lance has no problem with curves. Of any variety. 

Keith and Lance actually met on one of these hoverbus tours, just over two years ago:

Prior to that, Keith had never even visited Earth, even though he’s half-human. For some reason, despite being one of the senior members of a highly elite surveillance organization, the legendary Blades of Mamora, Keith felt that the best way to gather intelligence about planet Earth was to book a bus tour??? (He also watched at least one docuseries on Netflix, but that’s neither here nor there.) Fresh from space, he arrived at Lance’s nine am tour dressed in full space-ninja gear and proceeded to glare, unblinking, at Lance for the entire duration of the tour. 

Yeah. It was a little unnerving. 

Lance still managed to give an awesome tour to the guests, by the way. From beginning to end. He’s a professional. But he will never forget the first words that Keith said to him: 

“You left out the hippos.” 

“Huh?” Lance turned from his spot at the front of the bus. His microphone, already switched off, the rest of the guests already departed, and this (attractive) half-Galran man staring him down. 

Keith repeated the complaint, clutching a well-worn copy of Rick Steve’s Best of Earth in his hands: “Hippos. Where were they?” 

“Uh.” Lance adjusted his blue and yellow polo shirt, feeling a bit hot under the collar. So. Attractive half-Galran man is even  _ more _ attractive when angry and all up in Lance’s face. “What?” 

Turns out, the guidebooks about Earth make it seem like there is a much greater likelihood of running into a hippopotamus in the wild than there actually is. Lance tried to apologize for the confusion: “Honestly, dude, I’ve lived on Earth for, like, twenty-six years now, and I’ve never seen a hippo.” 

The utter contempt on his face! Lance half expected the man to unsheath that nasty looking dagger at his waist and run him through, right there on Tour Bus Number Five. Goodbye, Lance, the tour guide. Hello, Lance, the shish kabob. 

But he didn’t. Instead, the man sat down, dark brows furrowed. “What? Why?” He looked up at Lance. “Why would they say that there were hippos then? They made it up? It’s so much easier to just- just— just say what there actually is!” His voice rose a pitch, and that’s when Lance first had the thought that the alien dude is not just attractive, but actually, fucking adorable. “Why would they do that,” he muttered under his breath, continuing to rant. 

“Hey man,” Lance sat down in the bus seat opposite him. Placed a tentative hand on his knee. “I’m sorry about that. Wish there were hippos on the tour, that’d be rad.” 

“Rad?” the man’s frown deepened into suspicion. “What does that mean? Better than good? Or not exactly bad?”

“Yes. No. Actually,” Lance ran a hand through his curls. “I’m not sure. Just, ‘radical,’ I think. But anyways. Name’s Lance,” he said, pointing to his Earth Tours Intergalactic nametag. He held out his hand for a handshake.

The man just looked at him. Down at his hand. Back up at his face. The faintest tinge of lilac rose over his cheeks. It took Lance a beat to realize: blushing. The man was blushing. 

“This is the part where we shake hands and you tell me your name.” Lance whispered. 

The man looked to the side, and then back at Lance. Eyes narrowed, but still not blinking. “What?” 

“Okay so, I’m willing to bet that your name is not ‘what.’” 

“Me?” 

Lance nodded. 

“Keith.” 

Lance couldn’t help grinning. What kind of name for an alien is Keith? Whatever. Works for him. He grabbed the man’s— Keith’s— hand and was pleased to find a solid and strong grip waiting for him. A touch that matched his own palm just so. “Keith. Nice to meet you, man. Welcome to Earth.” 

And. Lance kinda-sorta thought that was gonna be the end of it. 

He was more than kinda-sorta wrong. 

Because Keith was still there later on, glaring at him again that same afternoon, during Lance’s three o’clock tour as well. Unblinking. Silent. He watched Lance give the exact same tour that he had already been on that morning. 

Weird. 

But okay. Whatever. 

Except for, 

Keith was there again the next day, at the morning show. 

And then, the next day. 

And the next day. 

And— 

“Dude,” Lance stopped him outside, near a vending machine, after Keith had glared at him for the entire duration of the bus tour for six days in a row. He watched Keith wrassle a few crinkly dollar bills into the slot, only to have them be spit back out by the machine. At that point, Lance decided to take mercy on the poor guy:

“Let me.” Lance made grabby hands at Keith’s money, and Keith handed it over, watching Lance with unblinking purple eyes as Lance successfully managed to get the machine to take the money. Without asking for Keith’s input, he poked the button for Cherry Coke. 

The soda can tumbled down into the slot and Keith took it, cracking open the top with a wary look. He took a hesitant first sip, and Lance watched as his eyes went wide. 

“Yeah, it’s good, hu-” 

And then Keith started to choke. And cough, 

“Woah, woah, dude,” Lance patted him on the back. “Breathe!” 

“It’s angry!” Keith sputtered. He held the can at arm’s length as if it was a bomb about to detonate. “And so sweet!” 

“That’s the carbonation, Keith. And the chemicals. Good, huh?” 

Keith took another, more cautious sip. Thought about it. “Yeah.” 

Lance watched him for a moment, dark hair falling across his face as he continued to sip the soda as if it were a delicacy. The guy was wearing lame fingerless gloves and his nails looked more like claws than human nails. He was dressed all in black, and looked like he had killed and will kill again. Despite all that, he was cute. Maybe it was the cowlick mussing his thick dark hair. Or the hunched tilt of his shoulders, despite him clearly being able to handle himself in a fight. Maybe it was the skintight spacesuit and the scuffs on the toes of his boots. Heck, maybe it was just Keith. 

“Hey,” Lance interrupted his own thoughts with a more pressing question: “Why do you keep taking the same tour? Not that I don’t appreciate the tips, but dude. The chances of hippos appearing are nil, no matter how many times you’re there. ” 

Keith looked at him, dead in the eye. “You’re attractive. I want to know you better.” 

It was Lance’s turn to choke, then. And blush. “Wuh-wuh-what? A-are you—Are you asking me out on a date?” he managed to wheeze. 

“Yeah.” Keith responded. Simple. 

And, thus, Lance began his descent into the bottomless pool of marvelous, mystifying madness that is dating outside of one’s own solar system. 

(There’s been a learning curve, sure. But every minute’s been worth it.) 

*

“Home sweet home,” Lance sighs, as Keith sets the jet down neatly in the hanger garage attached to their apartment complex. The engines whirl down and the landing gear clacks into place. He does a full body stretch— his legs long enough that his toes touch the underside of the control unit and his arms in a wide ‘v’ over his head. 

“Yeppp,” Keith agrees. The way he says it is a habit he’s picked up from Lance. It’s cute. (All of Keith is cute, if you ask Lance.) His hands are light over the controls as he completes the complicated cool-down procedure in half the time it would take a lesser pilot. When done, he rises to his feet, leaning over to unfasten Lance’s seatbelt and pull Lance up out of the co-pilot’s chair. 

“Ke-” Whatever Lance was going to say is muffled as Keith covers his mouth with a kiss just as soon as he’s in kissing range. Lance grins, but the smile soon falls away, 

Keith has a tight grip on Lance’s arm. As the kiss deepens, slowly, the tips of Keith’s canines pricking Lance’s lips, the roll of his hips in time with the gentle suck of his mouth— as the kiss deepens, Keith’s bruising grip lessens. As if melting into him, Lance leans in closer as Keith’s touch moves up the back of his arm, over his shoulder, until Keith has a hand buried in the curls at the base of Lance’s skull. Lance steadies himself in Keith’s arms, his own hands at Keith’s hips. He opens his mouth wider, groaning as Keith kisses him deep enough to be devoured. 

“Babe,” Lance manages. Keith’s body is flush against his, and his greedy mouth is now over Lance’s jaw, now buried in the crook of his shoulder, kissing his neck. “Keith.” 

“Mm.” Keith responds, y’know, completely and totally articulate. (Galrans are not ones to mince words.) He inhales deeply against Lance’s skin, mouthing over his throat. “Smells good.” 

Ah. 

Okay, so  _ that’s _ what’s going on. Duh. It should have been obvious. Yesterday Keith poured coffee all over his hands because Lance walked into the kitchen wearing short-short boxers. That  _ alone  _ should have been the tell. Lance finds himself grinning once again. 

Weird alien factoid number 256: Galrans have heat cycles. 

“Oh, ho, ho,” Lance recognizes this level of horny. If Keith is openly scenting him, there’s only one explanation. He runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, untangling the ends of his (tragically unstylish) mullet. Leans in to kiss against Keith’s jaw, even as his hands are drifting lower. “Keith. Why didn’t you tell me it was  _ that _ time of the month?” 

Keith stands up straight— though he doesn’t quite get far enough away for Lance to be outside the circle of his arms. Keith wrinkles his nose, but he’s not embarrassed, exactly. He might have been a year ago, but this is hardly Lance’s first rodeo.

“Don’t say it like that.” Keith says in reply, wrinkly nose becoming something close to a scowl. 

(And yeah, Galran heat cycles aren’t really monthly. But it doesn’t matter. The important thing is: about every 48 days, Keith gets extra hung, extra hairy, and extra horny. No matter what you call it, or when it happens, Lance is  _ absolutely  _ here for it.) 

Keith is in Earth clothes today; Lance sneaks a finger under his vintage X-Files tee shirt and pinches one of Keith’s nipples. “It’s your  _ special _ time.” Lance sing-songs. “Don’t be shy, E.T. Tell Lance-y Lance what you want.” 

“Calling me E.T. is not the hilarious joke that you think it is, Lance,” Keith huffs. Breathless or close to it. He squirms but doesn’t exactly pull away— Lance takes this as a good sign. 

Rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers, Lance makes sure his next words ghost suggestive over the shell of Keith’s ear. “My little. Green. Man.” 

Keith bursts into laughter and really does shove Lance away then. “Whu--what the fuck, dude?” He has one hand over his chest where Lance was pinching him, and a telling purple flush is running from his collarbones up his neck. 

Lance grins from his spot where he’s now sprawled over the co-pilot’s seat again. Keith doesn’t know his own strength. Or maybe he does, and pushing Lance over the chair is just what he intended. Luckily Lance is light on his feet and there’s no harm done. He makes himself comfortable, crossing his legs over the armrest and tucking his hands behind his head. “Just getting you into the mood with some nice bedroom talk,” he titters, jiggling one of his feet in time with the giggle. 

Keith rolls his eyes. “We’re not in the bedroom. Yet.” Contemplating, he adds: “Plus, who is little?! I’m taller than you!” 

“Pssh!” Lance blows a contentious raspberry in the general direction of Keith’s home planet. He sits up straighter. “Yeah right! Your hair is just poofier.” 

Keith scoffs. “Poofy?! It is not!” 

“Believe me, babe, there is enough volume in your hair to--ah!” Lance yelps as Keith unceremoniously lifts him out of the chair and over his shoulder. “Keith!” 

“Yes? Lance?” Keith hikes Lance up a bit higher. Like he’s a bag of potatoes! 

Rude! 

“Uh!! Excuse me!” 

Keith pats his ass. “Don’t move around so much, I’ll drop you.” 

Lance flails accordingly. “Kei— Keith! Put! You—! Put me down! Don’t you—! Keith!” 

“What was that?” Keith calmly exits the plane with Lance over his shoulder. With his free hand he pushes the lock button on his key fob and the jet beeps. “Sorry, Lance, I only speak Galran, English, and a very small amount of Altean. Not whatever it is you’re shouting.” 

“You’re lucky that I talk to you at all, with this treatment.” Still hanging from over Keith’s shoulder, Lance crosses his arms. All the blood is rushing to his head. And his perfectly messy-styled hair is getting actually-for real-messy! He does have a nice view of Keith’s ass, though, so it’s not all bad. 

Keith, the absolute barbarian, does not deign to put Lance down for the entire walk through the parking garage to their apartment. Not even when Gary, their Wourmian neighbor, passes them in the stairwell. 

“Hey Gary,” Keith says, with a nod. 

From Lance’s strange viewpoint, he can see the tip of Gary’s pink tail twitching. 

“Hey Gary,” Lance adds. He still doesn’t uncross his arms. 

“Hullo boys,” Gary responds. “Nice to see you, as always,” he adds. Gary is a neighborly fellow. 

“Good to see you too,” Keith agrees. 

“Have a good one,” Lance says with a wave, still upside down. He assumes that Gary waves back.

Keith doesn’t put Lance down until they truly are in the actual bedroom. Down three flights of stairs, through the front door, the kitchen, the living room, past the bathroom, and finally… on to the bed. Lance would squawk and carry on about it— except that Keith is so gentle. He ever so carefully unwinds Lance from his arms, settling him against their turned down sheets. He keeps one hand behind Lance’s head, cradling it so that Lance won’t be jostled. 

He lays a sweet kiss against Lance’s forehead, now over him in the bed. Weight on his knees so as not to cage him in. 

“You want me to shower first?” Lance asks, kicking off his baby blue Keds. They fall to the floor at the foot of the bed with a twin set of thumps. He already knows the answer to his question. 

Keith practically growls. 

Lance does his best to hide a smile. He looks up at Keith over him, tries to keep his eyes wide and innocent. “But Keith, snookums dearest, I probably stink.” Lance hooks a finger in the collar of the polyester monstrosity that is his work polo shirt. Fans it over his chest. 

Lance would swear that he can see the slits of Keith’s eyes widen. The guy’s nostrils probably flare. He’s very predictable. 

(And also very turned on already, judging by the hard press of Keith’s hips into his.) 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Lance snickers. 

“La-ance,” Keith says, half warning, half whine. He buries his face into Lance’s neck again. Inhales Needy. 

“I know,” Lance reassures. He bites his lip, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Help me out of my work clothes though?” 

Keith’s mouth is hot over his bare chest— just as soon as Lance pulls the shirt over his head, Keith is there, kissing over his sternum. Lance tangles his hands in Keith’s hair, breath catching in his lungs as Keith nips and marks over his skin. He pulls and Keith groans. He wraps a leg around Keith’s waist and is rewarded with a slow grind of Keith’s hips into his. 

“Ah, Keith—” Lance sighs. He means to grab the bottom of Keith’s tee shirt, but he’s getting hard now too, and uncoordinated. His (perfectly manicured) fingernails catch over the small of Keith’s back. They’re blunt, but Keith keens, 

“Laa-ance,” he stutters out, pressing Lance into the mattress. This close, Lance can feel the heat from his skin, how fast his heart is beating. 

“Ye-ah,” Lance agrees. “Yep, you are absolutely correctamundo, Keith.” He flicks the button open on his khakis, undoes the fly, pushing them off his hips at the same time as his boxers. “We do not have time for showering.” 

Keith sits back, now between Lance’s legs as Lance struggles to get his pants off. He grabs one of Lance’s ankles (which does not help with the overall goal of getting undressed), and leans to press a kiss to the strip of skin between the bottom of Lance’s cropped pants and the top of his ankle socks. 

Lance stops shuffling around. Sitting up on his elbows, half undressed, he raises an eyebrow at Keith. Like,  _ of all the places to kiss, that’s the one? _

Keith, naturally, kisses him there again. With one eye fixed on Lance’s face and one edge of his mouth playing at defiant. 

They both know that Keith is a leg man. And Lance happens to have some very long legs. (He’s been known to use both of these facts to his unfair advantage: everything from getting out of dish washing duty to hot-n-heavy makeup sex. An absolute tactical advantage if there ever was one). Keith runs a heavy hand up Lance’s calf to his thigh. Lance lifts his ass off the bed, pushing his pants down all the way. They manage to get stuck around his ankles and Lance only has half the mind to kick them off, focused almost solely on the smolder in Keith’s unblinking eyes. 

His cock bobs free, fully hard as Keith kisses his way up Lance’s bare legs. He lingers over the back of Lance’s knee, mouthing there enough to tickle, before pressing sharp teeth into the soft skin of Lance’s inner thigh. 

“Fuuuck,” Lance sighs, collapsing into the sheets. Keith’s mouth is hot and wet and he wastes no time in licking sweat and musk from Lance’s skin, mouthing over his balls. He licks up from the base of Lance’s cock, torturous slow, clearly relishing it, before he moves to tip the cockhead into his mouth. 

Their bed creaks as Keith rolls his hips into the mattress and Lance squirms with Keith’s mouth sucking him mercilessly. 

“Shit, Keith, c’mon, c’mon,” Lance chants. Enough that Keith’s eyes flick up to his, right as he sinks that much lower onto Lance’s cock. He sucks, hard, and Lance’s hips bolt off the bed and the swear becomes a moan, and he’s coming, hard, 

The column of Keith’s throat— the bob of his adam’s apple, the hollow of his neck— is gorgeous as he swallows. Saliva drips down his chin. When Lance pulls him down on top of him to catch his mouth, Keith is breathing too heavy to coordinate anything that resembles kissing. 

“So,” Lance says, conversationally, hands trailing through the sparse hair on Keith’s chest, the thick hair on his stomach— thicker still as he gets Keith’s pants unbuttoned. And then thrown to the side of the bed, along with the rest of their clothes. “I think that means it’s my turn now.” 

Whatever Keith is muttering turns into a groan as Lance wraps a hand around his cock. Fuck, he’s already like this…

Wet. Glistening. Thick and Long and. Hard. 

So hard. 

“Huh? What was that?” Lance hums. Keith is sitting over him, thrusting into Lance’s hand, curled so that his forehead is touching Lance’s. His breaths are hot over Lance’s face. 

He couples the tease with a firm thumb underneath Keith’s cockhead. There is a nodule on either side, some kind of Galran biology. Lance doesn’t know if there’s a name for these bits (alien boyfriends don’t come with their own biology textbook, believe it or not) but, like the rest of Keith’s body, he loves them— not only does the extra ridge feel phenomenal when Lance is being fucked, they are an easy way to make Keith feel really good. Even more so when he’s extra sensitive, like he is right now. Lance twists his wrist, stroking him, but when he settles pressure over either side of the flare of Keith’s cock, another blurt of pre leaks from Keith’s slit. And he’s already so wet. 

Galran biology, or, at least Keith’s version of it: Lance is a fan. 

“I said,” Keith is gasping, cock twitching and messy in Lance’s fist, “Hah— we’re not t-taking, fu--turns, Lance,” 

“Preeetty sure we are,” Lance argues. He knows when his boyfriend is close. “But, hey, I can stop if you want.” He takes his hand away from Keith’s cock, smearing a line of slick through his curls into the deep divot of his hip. 

The look that Keith gives him is murderous. Lance laughs. (He’s used to it. Keith’s face is sometimes just like that.) 

The laugh must be infectious because despite everything, Keith huffs out a smile. He runs a rough thumb over the arc of Lance’s cheekbone before settling closer to him. Lance closes the distance, changing their position to straddle Keith, at the same time catching his mouth in a lackadaisical kiss. 

In this position, Keith is close enough to lick and bite his neck, while Lance uses Keith’s slick to finger himself open. Hand sufficiently messy, Lance sets himself to the task. He works a finger around his rim, pressing inside with a groan as Keith wraps a hand around both of their cocks. 

“Careful with the claws, sweetheart,” Lance quips— or tries to. He’s so breathless that the words come out too halting to sound like a joke. 

Keith reacts, instantly. His grip lessens and he shifts underneath Lance. 

“No, no,” Lance protests, tipping forward against him, even as he continues to stretch himself. “That— fuck, ah— that was a joke, dude.”

“Oh.” Keith touches him again, though still less confident than before. 

Lance can’t have that. He shakes the hair out of his eyes, making it a point to look directly into Keith’s. The purple is surrounded by yellow now. Unblinking as always, he takes Lance in. 

“I know you would never hurt me,” Lance tells him, serious and gentle. He offers Keith a lopsided smile in apology. “Love you, Keith. And your claws.” 

It’s cute the way that Keith shudders underneath him at the words. His flush deepens, and his cock— purplehard and dribbling between them— visibly twitches at the affirmation. “They’re not even claws, Lance,” he mutters, ducking his head. Even softer: “Love you, too.” 

The two of them share heavy breaths and searing body heat, caught up in each other’s mouths, skin, touch; kissing uncoordinated, sloppy, sweet...until, 

“Alright, now that we got that out of the way,” Lance announces, satisfied that he’s stretched well enough, and also very secure in their relationship. “Time to get fucked!” 

He almost falls over as Keith abruptly loosens his grip on Lance in favor of covering his own face with his hands. 

“Keith! What the cheese!?” 

“Why?” Keith asks, from behind his palms. “Why are you like this?” With Lance still in his lap, he falls backwards onto the sheets. 

“Like what?” Lance asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before lifting up on his knees and scooting forward. Keith’s cockhead over his entrance is a tease— and Lance hates to be teased. He sinks down, body bowing over Keith in pleasure as he’s filled. 

The noises that Keith makes underneath him sound more than human. Guttural, some combination of Galran and English, punched out of Keith as Lance rides him. Lance drinks them in. 

“I’d say something cool right now, but,” Lance huffs, thighs burning as he increases his pace. He wraps a hand around his bouncing cock and loses his train of thought. “Fuck!” 

“Don’t,” Keith decides, similarly indisposed to speech. He tilts his head back, chest heaving. “Please do not. Just— Lance! You—” 

“Yeah,” Lance agrees. Fuck, Keith is big. Especially when he’s like this— all keyed up and extra Galran-y. Lance moans, heat building in his gut. He’s already close… 

Keith flips them, then. Without warning, strong enough to move both of them in one smooth motion. Lance is on his back and Keith slides in— deeper and somehow  _ more _ than he was before. He has his hands at the back of Lance’s knees, bending him in half as he pounds hard into Lance. 

“Yes, ah! Ke— don’t stop, Keith!” Lance can only say his name as he spills all over his own chest. He comes hard and long, so lost in it that he barely realizes that Keith is there too.

His pace stutters and stops, deep in Lance as Keith finishes. Keith is always intense, but in moments like this, Lance is transfixed. Keith has his eyes shut, head rolled back in pleasure, mouth open with Lance’s name on his lips. He finishes, searing hot pouring into Lance. It feels like so much— already wrung out, Lance moans at the sensation. 

And Keith’s grip over Lance’s legs loosens and drops. 

He gathers Lance up in his arms, both of them one sticky entangled mess. Lance’s stuff now coating Keith’s chest, and Keith’s come and slick dripping down his thighs. 

Keith takes it all in, the mess, and seems satisfied. 

“Love you, Lance,” he repeats, snuggling and breathing deep over Lance’s hair. It tickles. 

Skin still thrumming, heart still pounding, Lance lets himself get overwhelmed by the feeling of so much of Keith’s skin over his. When they first met, Keith was so strange. Abrupt and curt, battle hardened and sharp in so many ways. He’s softer now. Lance squeezes at a bit around his middle and smiles when he feels Keith huff. 

There’s a deep sound— somewhere between the tick of a clock and the rumble of an engine. Lance can feel the vibration that goes along with it. Keith is purring. 

So. 

Sure, dating an alien isn’t for everyone. But it is definitely for Lance. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! I have never done a giveaway before so I was really excited about collabing on a fic with someone. <3 
> 
> my twitter is [ here](https://twitter.com/jacqulinetan), just in case you need more retweets of Keith in your life <3 <3
> 
> EDIT: Bibi did [ this amazing art](https://twitter.com/hey_chibibichan/status/1360393251979673609?s=20) to go along with the fic!!! I love it so much, thank you Bibi!!!


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